Brian Docherty

World View

Boredom rusts my mouth, shrivels my tongue.
The food never varies; I mark off my days
by the menu I have never been offered.
The supplements announce who is on duty.

I can smell my own body, the drains,
boiled vegetables, leather and dogs.
The man who hung himself 20 meals ago is
still with us, a wreath of quicklime.

My skin, my clothes, this floor, these walls, are
all I have touched for too long.
A book, a woman’s skin, a glass of wine, are
things I have given up longing for.

All night I hear men moaning, pipes banging,
lorries and trains in the distance.
If I had a watch, I could set it by them. In
the early hours they stop for a while.

The high window is a wonky camera
framing birds, clouds, kites, planes.
I never see other people except through
the smoky mirror of memory.

Ileana Botescu-Sireteanu

Brian Docherty

Vedere asupra lumii

Plictisul imi umple gura de rugina, imi opareste limba.
Mancarea e mereu aceeasi. Deosebesc zilele
Dupa meniul ce nu mi-a fost oferit niciodata.
Suplimentele ne instiinteaza cine e de serviciu.

Imi pot mirosi propriul corp, canalizarea,
Legumele fierte, mirosul de piele si caine.
Barbatul care s-a spanzurat acum 20 de mese e inca
Cu noi, un rotocol de var nestins.

Pielea si hainele mele, podeaua si peretii acestia sunt
Tot ce am atins in prea mult timp.
O carte, pielea unei femei, un pahar de vin, sunt
Lucruri la care-am renuntat sa visez.

Noaptea intreaga aud oameni gemand, tevi pocnind,
Camioane si trenuri in departare.
De-as avea un ceas l-as putea potrivi dupa ele. Spre
dimineata se opresc pentru o vreme.

Fereastra inalta e un aparat de fotografiat piezis
Ce incadreaza pasari, nori, zmee, avioane.
Nu zaresc alti oameni decat prin
Oglinda fumurie a aducerii-aminte.